Friday, December 23, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Lessons from Atticus Finch
This term I am having my high school students read the familiar classic, To Kill a Mockingbird. Since I myself hadn’t read it since I was sixteen, I figured it would be a good idea to pick the book up again.
It was amazing. What a wonderful story- a vivid journey into a different time and place, a gripping drama about courage and truth and human nature. I felt so moved by the themes of the novel, and could not help but wondering how they speak to us today.
One particular exchange struck me. Late in the book, after (SPOILER ALERT) Atticus’ black defendent is wrongfully found guilty because his accuser is white, Jem (Atticus’ son) is speaking with his neighbor about his deep disappointment in his community.
“I always thought Maycomb folks were the best folks in the world, least that’s what they seemed like,” young Jem laments.
“We’re the safest folks in the world,” replies his sagely neighbor, Miss Maudie. She goes on. “We’re so rarely called on to be Christians, but when we are, we’ve got men like Atticus to go for us.”
I was struck by the insight. Often times our greatest priority is “safety.” We want a safe neighborhood, a safe town, a safe car, and a safe home. I recognize the common sense wisdom in that- the survival instinct is human nature. Yet sometimes when we say “safe”, what it turns out to mean is “insulated” from anything and anyone that is different than us. Our pursuit of safety leaves us surrounded by neighbors and friends that think like we think, and behave like we behave.
And yet Jesus said “If you only love those who are your brothers (insert here: people similar to you) than what makes you different than everyone else? Everyone does that.” Jesus demands we love our “enemies”- aka people who believe, act, talk and live differently than we do. And the love Jesus is calling for is not an intellectual exercise- it must be substantiated in the context of actual relationships. How can you love someone you avoid? How can you love people who are different than you, if every single person in your life is just like you?
Here is another thought to chew on: If safety is your number one priority, then fear is your number one influence. What does it say about your belief system if fear is the loudest voice in your heart and mind, if fear casts the deciding vote? Now, if compassion were to be our number one influence, if as obedient disciples loving our “enemies” (insert here: people different than us) was the driving call and vision of our lives, what would our number one priority become? How would it influence where we live, and who we hang out with, and what type of activities we engage in?
It cost Atticus a great deal to take a stand for a black man’s rights in 1935 Alabama. It cost Jesus a great deal to love and honor sinners, tax collectors, Samaritans and women in first century Palestine. And the courageous love that Christ calls for, a love that crosses every barrier in existence and makes no exceptions, will cost you and I no less today. If we haven’t paid a price, then maybe it means we haven’t understood the instructions.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Truths about Power: Thoughts on the Arab Spring (Part I)
I am not sure how the events known as the “Arab Spring” strike those who do not have a personal connection to the region, but for me it is absolutely fascinating, inspiring, and challenging. The term refers to the spontaneous spread of revolutionary, popular movements in the Arab world which began in Tunisia in January of this year and which have since borne massive impact in the form of anti-government protests and demonstrations in Egypt, Yemen, Saudi Arabia, Libya, Jordan, Bahrain, Syria... and many more.
The nature of the rise in political activism within these countries and the ensuing struggle with the existing Arab governments is as varied as the countries themselves. In Egypt, protests were largest in the capital, Cairo, while in Syria, they began in obscure regions on the country’s borders and slowly spread to the more populous cultural hubs. Some conflicts have been religiously sectarian, like Bahrain, while others have been tribal conflicts, like Libya. Some have produced real change very quickly, others slowly, and for some, no change is yet to appear.
Yet clearly the timing demonstrates that these revolutionary movements have more in common then they have distinctions. They represent more than just a tipping point of disillusionment with kings, cronies and corruption. They represent a powerful new idea that is igniting a region: individuals are never powerless.
In the time I have known this region, I have observed a consistent trend of fatalism that runs deep in the culture. This trend exists in America as well; we call it cynicism. It is a permeating belief that things don’t change, and people don’t change, and the best we can do is to learn to adapt, to accept all things, whether it’s a job promotion or a parking ticket or an oppressive government, as coming directly from the hand of God and to learn to live with it. In the Arab’s case, of course they know their rulers are exploitative and brutal, but they feel there is nothing they can do about it.
That is, until they saw the Tunisians bring the house down. Then the Egyptians, gathering in a warm, hospitable protest that only Arabs could pull off, ended Mubarak’s 30 year strangle hold on the largest of all Arab nations. If the Egyptians can do it, why can’t we? they said.
I can see it in the eyes of my Syrian friend from whom I buy vegetables. When I come up to him each week he has a mischievous grin, and when I ask him how he is doing he says “great, the revolution is walking right (which means it continues).” At the end of the month he looks forward to visiting his family, so he can risk his life with his friends on behalf of his people by taking part in the forbidden demonstrations.
The revolution is far from over. Every week people are dying in the streets of Syria. But the shift has been made, and I don’t think it can be unmade. The Syrians, Egyptians and Libyans have discovered a profound truth: a living, breathing, speaking, thinking person is never powerless. We are all potential agents of change just waiting for the right combination of inspiration and conviction.
But I wonder, is that profound truth still alive in America? More importantly, is it alive in the church? I don’t mean this just politically- I mean it spiritually as well. Do we still believe that we are agents of change, that we have a voice? And if you say “no, because our political system is bankrupt, and our culture too materialistic,” I would tell you that is not a legitimate answer. Hope lies not in a system or in a culture or a in a political figure, but in the inspiration and faith of individuals. It lies in our conviction that justice can be done, that the prisoners can be set free, that the blind can be given sight. And if you don’t believe it can happen anymore; if you believe that our role is to accept reality as it is and adapt to it, to live our lives with no sense of empowerment or responsibility to bring the Kingdom of God into our world, well then you are part of the problem.
